


not nothing

by liionne



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, It's gross, M/M, Oblivious, Slow Build, They're both oblivious, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2271948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liionne/pseuds/liionne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Can you quit that?" He asks, when he's a few steps away. The guy looks up at him, and Steve has to try very hard not to stare.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>"I <b>can</b>." He nods, as he keeps on strumming. "But I'm not going to."</i>
</p>
<p>Bucky keeps Steve awake with his 3am guitar playing, and a <i>lot</i> of parties ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	not nothing

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd, any mistakes are all mine.

Steve stares at his ceiling, and curses. It's 4 in the morning, and he has a god damn busy day tomorrow. He needs to finish his art project, he needs to finish his history essay, and then he has his lectures, and football practice.

And someone down the god damn hall is playing guitar.

Loudly.

Any other occasion, and Steve would be able to appreciate it. Because the guitar itself is quite nice; acoustic, instrument, melodic, and there's occasionally a voice that sings along with it, husky and clear at the same time. It's good.

But it's 4 o'clock in the god damn morning and Steve Rogers is pissed.

He's given it an hour, but it hasn't stopped. Steve assumed that at some point, their faculty leader or another student would come out and tell him to shut the fuck up (maybe not in as many words, but something like that) but no one has. So Steve decides to take one for the team.

He pulls on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt before he heads out, and he spots the guy just down the hall; he's leaning against the wall, head propped back against the wall. He's dressed all in black, and for a moment, Steve falters. He's hot.

But he's still playing that god damn guitar.

"Can you quit that?" He asks, when he's a few steps away. The guy looks up at him, and Steve has to try very hard not to stare.

"I can." He nods, as he keeps on strumming. "But I'm not going to."

A smartass. Great. "Some of us actually have classes tomorrow." He says, squinting. He's assuming that this guy is a music student; he doesn't know anything about other universities, but at their college, the music students are notorious for doing _nothing_.

"So do I." The guy nods, strumming his guitar. "Several, actually. But I've been locked out of my room, so-"

Steve hasn't seen him around before. He's been in the same room for the last two years, in the same building, but he's never seen this guy before. He doesn't look like a Freshman. He must have just moved into the building recently.

"So go find somewhere else to sleep. Or just sleep _there_. Just stop making such a racket." Steve demands, hands coming to his hips petulantly. When the guy looks up at him for the first time, he snorts a laugh.

"Look, blondie," He says, and Steve's eyes narrow. "I'm not going anywhere. So you can go back to your room and put some ear plugs in, or we can keep having this dumb ass conversation. Got it?"

"Fine." Steve spits. He turns on his heel, and he goes back to bed. He doesn't sleep, so instead, he finishes his History essay. It probably doesn't read very well, but at least it's done. The guitar stops at 7am. When Steve pokes his head out of the hall, the guy and his guitar are gone.

Steve doesn't question it. He goes for a shower.

~*~

"Oh man, you look like you've had a bad night."

Sam smirks at him when Steve flops into his History lecture, and he groans.

"Some jackass was playing guitar at 3 in the morning down the hall. And when I asked him to move, he said no."

Sam gives a low whistle. "A cuss word from Captain America himself." He says, and Steve gives a tired sounding snort at the nickname. "Must have been pretty bad."

"He was kinda good, actually. And kinda hot." Sam raises his eyebrows, but Steve just shrugs his shoulders and carry on. "But it was 3 in the morning, and I'm still pretty pissed. Tired, but pissed."

Sam claps him on the back, and wakes Steve up a little more. Steve sips his illegal coffee (no food or drink in the lecture halls, please!) and stares at the front o the room, hoping the lecture will be one that grabs his attention.

"oh my god, that's him."

Sam turns his head to look at the door as Steve stares. He's wearing the same clothes he was last night- dark jeans, black vest, leather jacket, his dark hair tied back behind his hair in a small bun. He's cute.

He sees Steve, and he smirks. Steve blushes as he looks away, and Sam murmur, "Oh."

"Blondie," He greets him, and Steve looks up with a scowl. "See you didn't take my advice, then. You look wrecked."

_Fuck you,_ is what Steve wants to say. What comes out instead is, "And you look chipper."

When he turned into a 1940s radio personality he's unsure, but there you are.

The other guy snorts, and pulls a few things out of his bag; his laptop, a pen. "Starbucks do free refills." He says, as the lecture begins.

When it ends, the guy turns around, gives him a mock salute, and leaves. His jeans are decidedly tight around the ass, and Steve's a liar if he says he doesn't stare.

He doesn't know whether to be furious or turned on.

~*~

"He got shipped over from Berkeley." Natasha informs them as they get their lunch. Whilst Steve and Sam tuck into burgers, she pokes at her salad. "Don't know why. He hasn't told anyone, and he doesn't seem like the type to share."

"So how do _you_ know?" Steve asks, and he gets the answer he was expecting.

"I know _everything_." She says, and puts a cherry tomato in her mouth - it matches the colour of her lipstick.

"You never gave me his name." Steve points out, and Sam snorts.

"You got a crush, Rogers?" He asks, and Steve flushes a very attractive Salmon colour.

" _No_." he says, sounding something like a five year old boy. "I just want to know who he is so I can stop calling him _asshole_ in my head."

Sam and Natasha share a knowing look that takes Steve from Salmon to Cerise in ten seconds flat.

"I'm going to art." He declares, leaving a tray of half eaten food which Sam begins to pick at the minute he goes.

~*~

Steve falls asleep in art class, his cheek resting in on his paper, just inches away from his art.

"Steve?"

Someone shaking his shoulder.

"Steve, wake up."

Steve sits up bolt upright, and nearly headbutts Peggy, the TA, in his haste. She smirks, dark red lips tugging upwards at the sides.

"You nearly ruined your sketch." She says, nodding to the drying ink. "As pretty as your chiselled cheekbones are, I don't think they belong in that drawing."

Steve blushes - he's done that a lot today. "How long was I out?"

"Not long, I don't think. It's just about three. It's not like you to fall asleep in class. Is everything alright?" She asks.

"Yeah." Steve nods, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. "Everything's fine. Just- didn't get a lot of sleep. New guy playing guitar outside of his dorm. Which is right by my dorm, apparently."

"Ah," Peggy muses, and she gives him a small smile. "So you've met James."

"James." Steve echoes. It doesn't suit the guy, but if that's his name, who is he to argue? "Yeah. Yeah, I met him. Briefly. At 3am this morning. Guy's a jackass."

"He's not." Peggy argues, and Steve frowns. As far as he knows this guy has been around all of one day- how does everyone know him? "He's just very good at giving the wrong impression."

Steve shrugs his shoulders, and looks down at his art. He managed to get it finished before he fell asleep, at least. "Well I can't argue with that."

"You should try talking to him." She says, folding her arms across her chest. "I think the two of you could be good friends."

"I doubt it." Steve answers. He remembers how smarmy James was, his smirk and his swagger, his obnoxious voice at 4am. "Wait- what time did you say it was?"

"Almost three." Peggy answers. "Well just after three, now."

"Football!" Steve cries, scrabbling for his bag as he almost falls of his stool. On his way out of the door, he hears Peggy yell, "I'll be expecting you to talk to him!"

Steve knows that Peggy always gets her own way. It's a little to do with those big brown eyes, and a little more to do with the fact that she's freaking scary when she wants to be. But this is the one time she's not going to get her own way, and that really does set a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

~*~

Despite the fact that he's late, football practice goes well. That's where he earned the _Captain America_ title- he's the Captain of the team, and as far as any one else is concerned, he's All American. Big broad shoulders, tall, believes in respect and justice and liberty and stuff. US History major, studying the history of his people. Captain America.

It really does fit.

At the end of practice, Steve runs a hand through his sweaty hair, and heads off the field. Dum Dum shouts something about a good game and claps him on the back, and Jim Morita pulls him over.

"You're going to the Alpha Delta Pi party, right?" He asks, and Steve nods.

"Nat's sorority." He says. "Sure, I got the invite."

Jim nods. "But you're gonna show up, yeah?"

Steve doesn't often go to parties. Not because he's boring or anything (although, that's debatable), just because he doesn't like parties. He's not a massive fan of crowds of people and lots of drink and stale air and people getting handsy. It comes from his second puberty- before that he was skinny, scrawny, the type of guy people used to push into lockers, steal their clothes whilst they were in the shower after gym class. He was never _invited_ to parties. So now, as he's six feet tall, two hundred pounds and a lot more durable than he was before, he's not sure how to act at parties, when he's invited. He doesn't know what to do with himself. He never went in high school, and he's not sure how to act. So no, he's probably not going to go to the party.

Jim knows that. Jim senses that. And so he slides an arm around Steve's shoulders. He has to stand on tip toes to do it, but he manages.

"It's one of the biggest parties of the year, Cap. One of the best. If you go to this party, I'll get the guys to stop badgering you, alright? I'll get 'em to lay off. But only if you come to this one."

Steve could live with that. He joined the football team as a freshman, and now that he's a junior, he's definitely sick of the begging and the prodding from his team mates to go to the next fraternity or sorority party. He could definitely, _definitely_ do one party, just so that they'll all shut up. He can go for an hour, have a beer, and go home.

"Sure," He says, and nods. "But you've gotta hold up your end of the deal."

Jim grins, and claps him on the back. "Sure thing, cap. I'll catch you later!"

Steve hollers back at him, and then turns to go and get changed. It's been a pretty long day, and all he wants to do now is nap.

He just has to hope that _James_ won't be out with his god damn guitar again.

~*~

Steve sleeps through the night.

He wakes up in the morning feel pretty damn good, actually, if a little suspicious. And a little let down. He would've liked to see James again, but-

-but no. It's been a day. _One_ day. And the guy is arrogant and smarmy and Steve should hate him on principal. But he's cute. And his ass looks good in skinny jeans.

He has art first thing the next day, and Peggy doesn't mention it. Or rather, she doesn't get the time, because Steve goes into the open studio, adds the finishing touches to his work, and leaves again. She doesn't even have time to collar him.

He then goes to the library, and reads. He has a pretty long reading list for his History class, so he decides to crack on.

He knows that what he's actually doing is distracting himself from James, but that's beside the point. Entirely beside the point, because he's only known the kid for one damn day and you don't get crush after a day, you just don't. He's just being productive, he doesn't have long left at college.

Two years, but not long.

He then trudges over to history. Or rather, he storms. He gets there in record time, and takes his usual seat at the back. Sam smirks as he files in and takes his seat beside him, pulling out his laptop. "Will you quit that? James is gonna be here. You're just making an ass of yourself."

"I'm not doing _anything_." Steve retorts, back to being petulant.

"I don't know man, you looking at the door every two seconds is definitely _something_." Sam says, as he boots up his laptop.

Steve deflates. "It's not a crush." He says.

"Sure." Sam nods. "And by the way, he just came in."

Steve looks up, and sure enough, there's James, swaggering up the aisle to the row in front of Steve. He's dressed differently today, dark blue jumper and jeans that contrast so much with the pop punk outfit from the day before. His hair is still scraped back into that bun, though. Steve wants to see it down again.

Except no, he doesn't, because he couldn't give two shits about _James_.

"Keep telling yourself that." Sam says, and Steve blushes. He wonders how much of that actually came out of his mouth.

"You're looking better, boy scout." James says as he approaches, taking the seat in front of Steve. "Good nights sleep?"

"No cat strangling in the hall at 4am," Steve answers. "So yeah, I did."

"There was still cat strangling," James argues. "There's just four walls between us now. Muffles it."

"I see." Steve murmurs. He doesn't have a come back. He's kind of lost in the way James' lips turn up when he smirks, and how his eyes seem to take on a new twinkle as he does.

Sam just snorts beside him, and James turns back round, to the front, as the lecture begins.

It turns out to be a long week.

~*~

"Oh my god, look who it is. I never expected to see you here, Steve."

Natasha greets him with a hug. She's looking pretty damn good, actually. Dark black dress, hair scraped back into a high ponytail, and her lips and nails painted the blood red colour that identifies her as Alpha Delta Pi. No girl who wasn't part of the sorority would dare to wear such a colour, not at one of their own parties.

"And you're looking dapper." She adds, full lips turning into a smirk. "I wish you'd come out more."

He's not made much of an effort, actually. Dark plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, open at the neck, dark jeans. It's nothing special, honestly. It's the smartest outfit he owns, though, so he figured, why not?

"Seriously, though," Natasha says, and this time she has to shout over the music. "What're you doing here?"

"Made a deal with the guys," Steve answers, shouting over the base. Someone has turned the music up. "They'll stop badgering me if I just attend this one party, so here I am."

"I feel special." She answers, and Steve knows that's not a good reason for going to her party, but it's the truth. He's a big fan of the truth. "Now go enjoy yourself- Sam says he's on his way."

Steve nods, and steps away as Natasha turns to greet a couple who have just come in behind him. He grabs himself a beer, but he's not planning on staying, to be honest. An hour. Let the guys see him, and then he'll go. It's that simple.

He hangs out with them when he sees them, invites Sam over even though he's on the baseball team and not the football team, and they have a good laugh. Steve has a couple more beers than he was planning on, but it still doesn't make him feel any different. Probably due to the second puberty thing.

At eleven o'clock, he makes his excuses. He's stayed a whole two hours longer than he had meant to, so he considers the whole thing a success. Who knows- maybe he'll go to the next party.

But just as he's about to leave, he feels someone crash into him, grab onto his arm hard enough to pull him down. "Oh my god- boy scout! I didn't- woah- I didn't think this'd be your thing. Your _scene_. Too loud. Too- too cat strangly. Right?"

"Strangly's not a word." Steve points out, as James hangs off his arm.

"Whatever," James answers. "It is now."

"Right." Steve nods. He's so _drunk_. He wonders if he found Natasha's Russian vodka. Steve is one of the select few who knows where it's hidden, but if he found it-

"Well, I was just going. Nice to see you, James." Steve says, and - reluctantly - pushes James' away from him.

Bad idea. James stumbles, and Steve reaches out to catch him before he falls into a table littered with cupcakes. He snorts, but he clings to Steve again. "Please- Bucky. No one calls me James. 'cept my ma, 'course. Ma always called me James."

"Bucky." Steve corrects, and he wonders if he shouldn't take Bucky home. He's looking a little worse for wear, and it's not like Steve doesn't know where he lives- "How about we go home, Bucky? You look like you need a lie down."

"You gonna join me, gorgeous?" Bucky slurs, and Steve feels his face grow hot. He hopes no one can see it in the dim light of the accommodation's lounge. He wonders if Bucky _actually_ thinks he's gorgeous, or if he just-

"I just think we should get you home." Steve says. "Come on. Let's go."

Bucky doesn't argue, and is easily led out of the door. Steve tries to ignore the grin Sam gives him, and the thumbs up he gets from Natasha on his way out. They're both sarcastic bastards, and he hates them both.

It's not too far to walk from the Alpha Delta Pi place back to his own home - which is one of the only places _not_ to be affiliated to some sort of frat or sorority - but trying to push Bucky up the stairs to the second floor is like trying to herd cats with a feather duster. It's just not going to _work_.

"Is that your hand on my ass? Or is that my hand on my ass? Boy scout! No, no it's my hand. My bad. Oh- oo! Nearly tripped. Speaking of tripped, you're really ripped- that rhymes- I should be a english major! Are we- we should just nap here- or y'know, do it- ever done it up against a wall, boy scout?"

"Where's your key?" Steve interrupts his slurring and tries to speak, even though his face feels like it's on fire and he feels like he could die on the spot. He hopes Bucky doesn't remember any of this in the morning.

"My what now?" Bucky asks. Steve has propped him up against the wall by the door, and he's standing in front of him, which is probably a bad mood. They're close. Very close.

"Your key." Steve reiterates, and Bucky blinks a few ties before he nods, fumbles. "My- my key- my-"

He produces it triumphantly, holds it up with a grin. "My key!" He goes to put it into the lock but he just can't seem to manage, fumbling with it, jabbing the door and then the side of the lock and then the door handle.

"Here, let me." Steve murmurs, gently unfurling Bucky's hand so he can take the key. When the door is open, Steve leads him inside and to the bed, where Bucky flops unceremoniously onto the covers.

"'m real tired, boy scout. Real tired." he mumbles, slurring as he speaks. "I'm just gonna-"

He falls asleep before Steve can protest. With a sigh, Steve takes off Bucky's shoes, and his leather jacket, and notes for the first time that he looks pretty damn hot. He's wearing a vest again, and Steve's sure he can see dog tags hiding beneath his shirt, but he doesn't peek. He wonders if Bucky is as buff as his shirts would suggest, but again, he doesn't peek. He leaves a glass of water and some aspirin on the dresser beside his bed, and leaves as quietly as he can. It's a good job it's Saturday tomorrow, because Steve is suddenly feeling exhausted. A lie in might just do him some good.

~*~

He spends the weekend working on his art, reading for his history class, and occasionally going out to eat. He doesn't see Bucky the entire time. He kind of hates that; he just wants to know that he's okay after the party on Friday night.

He doesn't seem until monday, when Steve takes his regular seat in the back of his History class next to Sam. Bucky comes in with his hair tied back, his leather jacket pulled over a black t-shirt.

Why does he keep on managing to look so damn good?

He takes the seat in front of Steve, and this time when he turns around, he smiles at him. He doesn't smirk, he _smiles_. And it's so beautiful, Steve think he could cry.

"I- uh- I wanted to say thanks for the other night. I was a jerk, before. You're a good guy, huh?"

Sam, beside Steve, raises his eyebrows.

"The aspirin really helped. And thanks for taking my boots off. They would have ruined the sheets." Bucky says, and his smile is somewhat sheepish. "I- Can we go and get coffee after this? If you're free. I just really want to say thanks."

It's honestly only been a week since Steve first met Bucky, but his heart stops at the offer. He nods, and he gives Bucky a small smile. "Sure. I'm free."

Wrong. He's supposed to be going to art to get his work back from Peggy. But Bucky doesn't have to know that.

"Great." Bucky nods, and he gives Steve a smile before the lecture begins, looking to the front. The professor is just making his introduction when Bucky turns round again, and Steve leans forward in his seat.

"Y'know, I never even asked your name." Bucky says, and Steve's jaw drops for a moment. He's right. He never told him.

"Steve." He answers, smiling.

"Steve." Bucky echoes. "Nice to meet you, Steve."

"Pleasure's all mine." Steve answers, and Bucky snorts as he turns back to the front. Steve tries to focus on the lecture, but it's hard. He'll go over the online notes later, he supposes. It's the best he can do.

~*~

Bucky takes him off campus to the Starbucks across the road, and orders himself a pumpkin spice latte.

"Don't judge me." He says, turning to Steve. "It's autumn. What're you having?"

"Just a black coffee." Steve answers, and Bucky nods as he orders, handing over the money. Steve would have bought his own, but no matter. Bucky finds them a table in the corner, and sits down.

"I felt like death on Saturday morning. If you had of kicked my ass on the way up there, I wouldn't have been surprised. That's honestly what it felt like. But the water and the aspirin helped, so thanks." Bucky says, sipping his latte and wiping away the foam moustache it leaves behind. Shame. It was cute for all of five seconds.

"Anything to help," Steve answers, and Bucky shakes his head.

"But you didn't have to." He says, hands curling around his drink. "So why? I would have just left me outside. A cold night on the grass would have taught me a lesson."

"You might've died," Steve says, and he's grinning a little as he sips his coffee. "It's cold out, now. I didn't want to be an accessory to murder, or whatever."

Bucky chuckles, and this time wipes the foam away with his tongue. Steve stares. "You really _are_ a boy scout, huh?"

"Always prepared." Steve says, holding a three fingered salute up to his forehead.

This time Bucky really _does_ laugh, loud and warm and rich. Steve melts.

_No_. His brain tells him. _It's only been a week. This is not okay._

"So anyway, Steve," Bucky says, and he smiles. "Tell me about yourself."

Steve tells him about art and football and Brooklyn, and Bucky lights up, tells him about his own childhood over in Brooklyn, as well as his history major and his Slavic studies minor, and how he has no idea what he's going to do after college but he's enjoy himself so what does it matter?

"I mean, I was at Berkeley before. Guess I would have had a few more job offers if I was still over there." Bucky shrugs. His mug has been empty for a pretty long time now, as has Steve's, and neither of them seem to care.

"Why did you leave?" Steve asks, and he can see it. He can see the exact moment when Bucky's jaw sets and his eyes harden and the walls come up, blocking anyone and everyone out.

"Stuff came up." He says, and that's the end of it. Steve changes the subject, and they talk about other things until Bucky softens again.

"So I'll see you next time," Bucky says as they head back to campus; Steve has ten minutes to go to art, and then he has to be at football practice.

"Yeah." Steve nods. "Yeah, I'll see you next time."

He gives Bucky a smile as the other heads for the library, and he can't help but smile as he heads up to art. Even if all he gets to be with Bucky is a friend, he's not sure he'll mind. Bucky's a damn good guy, when you get to know him, and once again, Peggy was right.

~*~

A month, and Bucky has taken to sitting with them at lunch. Even better, he sit next to Steve, their shoulders brushing due to their broad shoulders. It's worth it, even if he _does_ have to put up with the knowing smirks of Sam and Natasha, who have taken to sitting opposite them.

"So Kappa Lambda Psi are having a Halloween party, and I got us all invites." Natasha smiles, as she chews her way through a granola bar.

"Aren't they open to anyone?" Bucky asks, and Natasha shrugs her shoulders.

"Sure. But we're on the VIP list."

Steve rolls his eyes. Sam apparently catches that, because he points a finger at him. "Oh no, man. You're going. No- none of that. You're going."

"I'm not going." Steve retorts, and Bucky frowns.

"You're not going?" He asks. "-Why not?"

"I-"

"He never goes to parties." Sam interrupts, and Steve sighs. "Because he's a boring old man who would rather stay in his room and read-"

"C'mon, Stevie," Bucky says, bumping Steve's shoulder with his own. "Go to the party."

Steve wants to say no, but Bucky's eyes are so big and so blue and-"

"Is it fancy dress?" He asks, and Bucky grins.

"Yes." Natasha answers, and Steve huffs another sigh.

"Don't sweat it," Bucky says, and he grins as he pops a grape into his mouth. "We'll do a couples thing. I'll be Wilma, you can be Fred. Or I'll be Mary Poppins and you can be Bert- or maybe I should be Bert, I've got the charm."

"You'd look better in a skirt." Steve points out with a grin, pointedly ignoring the way Sam and Natasha are looking at them both. He's too focused on the light in Bucky's eyes and the smile on his face to care about those two jackasses.

"Point taken." Bucky nods, grinning as he turns back to his tray.

"So you're going to the party, then." Nat assumes, looking at Steve. She raises her perfectly sculpted eyebrows, and Steve hates her just a little. Thankfully, Bucky is looking down at his phone.

"Yeah." Steve nods. "Yeah, don't see why not. Might be fun."

"Mm." Sam hums. "Might be."

~*~

In the end, Steve decides to go as a cop. It's one of those awful store bought costumes that he wears with a pair of shades, but it'll do. He'd like to say he's not planning on staying, but he'll stay as long as Bucky wants him to.

On his way to the party, he picks Bucky up, knocking on his room down the hall. Bucky yells for him to come in, and so Steve does- It's becoming a habit.

"Oo, you hear to arrest me for cat strangling?" Bucky asks.

It takes Steve a moment to respond.

Bucky has, apparently, decided on a cowboy costume, and it's a damn good look for him. Waistcoat, jeans, bandanna around his neck, stetson.

Eventually, Steve shakes his head. "Nope. No recent complaints."

Bucky grins, and opens his mouth as if to say something else, but Steve interrupts him. "Did you cut your hair?"

He has just noticed the fact that Bucky's hair isn't hanging down, and it doesn't seem to be pulled up under the hat. Steve gives the hat a tug to reveal short, cropped hair, in a style that looks decidedly forties. "Woah."

"Is it alright?" Bucky asks, and for the first time ever Steve thinks he looks nervous.

"It's good." Steve nods. "It's very good."

Bucky beams at him, retrieving his hat and setting it back down on top of his head. He looks so much younger with the shorter hair; Steve can't decide which look he likes more.

"C'mon, officer," Bucky says, grabbing Steve's wrist. "We're going to be late."

Steve nods, and lets Bucky lead him out of the room. This, too, is a habit he could get into.

~*~

Steve doesn't even see the point in the costumes, because when they get there, the place is pitch black. There's a mass of bodies moving as one as they dance, moving in a block across the floor, and Steve, once he has been passed a beer, is immediately dragged by Bucky out into the center of them all. He can't complain. It presses him close to Bucky, all these bodies crowding them together. When he tires, he pulls Bucky off the floor and over to the drinks table, getting them something else to drink whilst they chat to Sam and Natasha. A few guys from the football team come over and chat to them to, over the thumping of the bass line.

It's a good night. One of the best nights Steve's ever had. He used to get mad that he had never been invited out places as a teenager, because he was a good guy. No one knew that, of course, because all he did was pick fights and get himself beaten up, but maybe they would have if he'd been invited to parties. He didn't go to prom, and he didn't go to house parties. He used to feel like he'd missed out.

But now, when he sips a beer and shakes a joke with Nat and Bucky sticks close to his side because it's so damn _crowded_ in here, Steve doesn't feel robbed of anything. This more than makes up for it.

"I'm going to dance, and I'm taking Natasha." Bucky declares. Sam has gone off with some of his baseball buddies, and now Bucky is dragging Nat away to dance. "You coming, Steve?"

Steve thinks he could use a breather. He shakes his head, and folds his arms across his chest. "No," He says. "No, I'm good."

Bucky nods, and then grins at Natasha as he leads her away, back out into the centre of the crowd again. Steve leans back against the wall, which is cool against the hot skin of his neck. It's so hot in there, with so many bodies, and he'd go outside for a moment, but finding the door is pretty damn hard.

Steve heads to the bathroom after a moment, even though he has a feeling there's going to be a hell of a long line. He skirts along the corridor, through seas of bodies, and opens the bathroom door to find Gilmore Hodge, from the Soccer team, sticking his hands up Sharon Carter's skirt whilst she tries desperately to push him away. And Steve knows that Sharon can handle herself, but Hodge- well Hodge is scary as shit, to say the least. Steve knew him in high school, unfortunately, and Steve's miraculous second puberty doesn't seem to have stopped him from being a giant jackass.

Not that that's going to stop Steve Rogers, of course.

"Hey!" He says, and Hodge turns. He's obviously drunk. "Get off of her!"

Hodge snorts. "You gonna make me, tiny?"

"Yeah." Steve nods. "Yeah, I think I am."

He punches him with one hand and herds Sharon away with the other; she disappears into the corridor. Steve sees the blood trickling from Hodge's nose, and he knows he's done well. He manages another punch, at his jaw, and it connects. It hurts Steve's knuckles, but it connects. Steve thinks maybe, for the first time in his life, he's won a fight.

But Hodge has _friends_. Steve hadn't counted on that.

One of them shoves him back into the counter that houses the sink, and the other reaches in to punch him, busting his nose. Another fist connects with his eye, and Steve just can't move fast enough as he sinks down the wall. Someone kicks him in the side, and he cries out. He manages to get back to the door, Hodge's friends still coming at him, when he feels a hand on the back of his shirt tugging him into the crowd.

"You think that's a fair fight?" Bucky. It's Bucky's voice. "two of you against one of him?"

"He's two hundred pounds."

"He's _outnumbered_." Bucky retorts. Steve watches on, somewhat dazed and confused. Bucky throws a punch at the first one, catching his nose and sending him skittering across the bathroom. Steve, in a moment of coherency, manages to kick the other guy's feet from under him, and Bucky manages to kick him as he falls. Steve is about to tell Bucky thank you when he turns to Steve with murder in his eyes, and he hisses, "Out. Now."

Steve does as he's told.

There's blood on the front of his costume, and he thanks whatever deity's out there that he actually bought this costume and didn't rent it. Bucky all but drags him outside by the scruff of his neck, pulling him into the cool night air.

"You're a dumbass." Bucky tells him, as soon as they get out of the party. They head for home, and Steve nods. "You thought you could take all three of them?"

"I didn't _know_ there was three." Steve informs him, but Bucky just scowls.

"You shouldn't be starting fights anyway, Stevie. _Jesus_. Those guys could have killed you!"

"But they didn't." Steve points out, which only makes Bucky scowl harder. It's hard to see Bucky as his knight in shining armor when he's looking at him like he's going to kill Steve himself.

"I had 'em on the ropes." Steve murmurs, as they head inside their building. The fluorescent lighting is so bright that it stings Steve's eyes as he trudges up the stairs. He expects Bucky to leave him at his room, but he doesn't. Instead he carries on, and he waits as Steve unlocks his door.

"Wait here." Bucky says when they get inside, quickly ditching his stetson and his bandanna. "I'll be right back."

Steve nods. His head is pounding, so he turns the light off and puts his lamp on instead. It's much better than before, and stops his brain from pulsing just a little bit. When Bucky comes back, he doesn't seem phased by the dim lights.

"Come here," He murmurs, as he sits down on the edge of the bed next to Steve. He cleans the blood from his face with a damp towel, and feels down his nose with two fingers. "It's not broken." He says. Steve wonders how he can be sure. He mops at the rest of his face until he's clean, and the washes his knuckles.

"Well," He says, as he looks at the cuts across Steve's knuckles. "At least you did some damage, huh?"

He's not quite smiling, but Steve knows it's as close as he's going to get, so he nods. Bucky nods in turn, and together, they flop. They don't speak; they just sleep. If it's weird for them to sleep side by side, facing each other, then neither one of them mentions it.

~*~

"I wanted to thank you," Peggy says, when Steve sits down in art the next day. His face hurts. That's it. His ribs hurt too, but his face hurts more. "For helping Sharon out. She was rather upset when I found her, and she told me what happened."

"Tell her not to mention it." Steve says, giving a small smile.

Peggy nods. "I also wanted to tell you how _awful_ you look."

Steve shrugs. "It could have been worse."

"It could?" Peggy asks, sounding doubtful. Steve can understand where she's coming from. He does look pretty damn bad. It's just that most of the damage was directed at his face, which is generally the only part of him people ever see.

"Bucky helped me out." Steve murmurs. He looks down at his sketch book.

"Bucky?" She asks, and then it clicks. " _James_."

Steve hasn't talked too much about him to Peggy, because- well because he knows his crush is totally obvious and blatant to everyone _but_ Bucky, apparently, but that doesn't mean he wants to talk about it. Natasha and Sam tease him, and he can live with that. But he can't openly address the fact that in the space of a month he has totally fallen head over heels for Bucky, and there's nothing he can do about it.

"He's a good man, isn't he?" Peggy asks, and Steve nods. He doesn't say anything, but he nods. He doesn't _trust_ himself to say anything, because after last night, it had all gotten pretty god damn weird. He had woken to Bucky's oddly sweet breath on his face, and _god_ did he look good when he was sleeping. He had woken with a yawn, and smiled at Steve before he had remembered that he was mad, and he had frowned. He had reached out, and touched just under Steve's eye. "Black eye." he had croaked. It wasn't anything sexy, or profound, or special, and yet Steve _knew_. This _totally_ isn't a crush anymore.

So no, he doesn't say anything, and that's probably for the best.

~*~

He's very good at not saying anything, though.

November runs without a hitch, as far as Steve is concerned. He goes to classes, he does his tests, he begins his next big art project. He plays football, he reads, he hangs out with Bucky, Sam and Natasha. He's doing well for himself.

And then December rolls around.

December is touch and go. Steve has a pass to stay at the university because he has no one to go home to. His mom died in his last year of high school, and his dad died long before that. All other family he has is back in Ireland, and even then, that's his second cousin twice removed. So for Thanksgiving and Christmas, Steve is left on his own. He's gotten used to it, though. This'll be his third lonely Christmas. He can order in pizza or something on Christmas Eve, and save it for the next day. He can bring down some blankets to the lounge in their hall, and watch some movies. It's not too bad. Lonely, but not too bad.

He tries not to think about it as Sam talks about going home to DC to see his mom, and Natasha talks about going back to Manhattan to see her Aunt. Steve doesn't notice how Bucky remains quiet, his head ducked whenever anybody mentions plan for the Winter.

But anyway- before Winter break, there is the Winter Formal, and Steve's not so sure he's looking forward to that. At all.

~*~

"Dude! Delta U party, 9pm. See you there?"

Steve nods, and smiles at Barton as he grins, gives him two thumbs up, and carries on walking.

Steve doesn't have a date. He doesn't know whether or not that's a good thing.

He's got himself a tux, though. Plain, simple, black suit and tie, white shirt. It's not fancy.

When he sees Sam, though, he wishes he had of dressed up. He's wearing a waistcoat under his jacket, that matches Natasha's dress, dark gold, classy. Steve raises his eyebrows as Sam holds his arm out to her. "You never said-"

"We thought you might have assumed." Sam answers, and Natasha smiles sweetly at him. Faux sweetly, of course.

"Well I didn't." Steve answers, but when he thinks about it, maybe he should have. Whilst Steve spends a lot of his down time with Bucky, those two have been spending a lot of their down time together. Steve's an idiot, he realises, in more ways than one.

"Sorry." He says. "I should have-"

"No," Natasha says, head shaking. "We get it. Really. And we'll forgive you if you say that you at least _asked_ Bucky to the dance?"

"No!" Steve cries, head shaking. "No, of course not. He's not- I just don't want to ruin it. He doesn't like me that way."

It's not that Steve thinks Bucky might not swing that way, or whatever, because he'd still ask if he was unsure. It's just that he doesn't want to ruin their friendship. Sure, he has the biggest crush on him the world has - or at least, Sam and Nat and the football team have - seen, but he counts Bucky as a friend first, and he doesn't want to ruin that. Not now.

There's a lot of sighing and huffing, but Steve manages to get them out the door without talking about it. He doesn't _want_ to talk about it. He just wants to get there, and get out.

But as usual, it's Bucky who makes him stay.

~*~

They meet him at the party, and Steve almost trips when he sees him. His suit must have been tailor made for him because it hangs so damn well, dark black suit, black tie, black shirt, his hair oh so neatly combed and styled. It takes Steve's breath away. And for a moment, when he steps forward to greet him, he thinks maybe Bucky is staring at him too.

He's quick to dismiss that, though.

"Hey! Come on- it's already started, we're missing it-"

It's less of a formal and more of a party in formal clothes, to be honest, but Steve's not sure what he was expecting. There's cheap champagne, and even though it tastes awful, it does the trick.

Steve leaves Nat and Sam when they start making out, and finds Bucky in the middle of the dance floor instead. Steve's a little tipsy from the champagne, a buzz in his veins as he pulls Bucky close and moves against him, chest to chest, hands on his hips. It's the drink, he tells himself. It's the drink, and-

And then he's kissing Bucky and Bucky pulls back, stunned.

"Shit." Steve whispers.

"I- I should go." Bucky says, his voice drowned out by the music. Steve wants to say no, to tell him to stop, but he's rooted into place, his jaw hanging slack. It's only when he sees Bucky disappear out the door that he can finally think to go after him, feet moving independent of his body as he tries to catch up.

"Bucky!" He finds him half way across the courtyard. It's cold, a layer of snow coating the ground, and Steve realises he left his jacket back in the lounge. "Bucky, wait! I'm sorry!"

That makes Bucky stop. He turns, and he frowns. "You're- you're sorry?"

"Yeah." Steve nods. The cold night air and the dread in the pit of his stomach is certainly sobering. "Yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't want to- I don't want to ruin this, what we have. You're my best friend, and I- I-" Steve flounders, shakes his head. He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up completely. "I'm sorry. It didn't mean anything, Bucky. It doesn't have to mean anything. But you'll be going away for winter break, right? Maybe- Maybe when you come back we can still be friends? Maybe some space will be- will be good."

"I'm not going away for Winter break." Bucky says. "My parents died. That's why I had to transfer."

Steve gapes. He wants to speak, but he doesn't have anything to say.

"Did that-" Bucky looks away, before he meets Steve's gaze. "Did that really mean nothing?"

"It doesn't have to." Steve says slowly, because he'd be a liar if he said yes. That kiss meant _everything_ to Steve. "It doesn't have to mean anything."

Bucky nods, and looks down at his feet. "I just thought- I thought our first kiss would be better. Like. Not rushed. And not- y'know- not _nothing_ -"

"You've thought about our first kiss?" Steve asks. He stares at him, blue eyes blown wide.

Bucky nods. "I- yeah. I've thought about it. 'Course I have. Everyone knows I have a crush on you, Steve. Everyone except you."

Steve blinks. "No." He says. He shakes his head, protests. That can't be right. No. Because Sam and Natasha would have told him if Bucky liked him, and he would have _known_. He would have known if someone as beautiful and charming and smart as Bucky _liked_ him-

"No?" Bucky asks, and something in his voice breaks.

Steve steps forward quickly, closing the gap between them. He places his hands on Bucky's arms and holds him in place, their noses almost brushing, their faces close. "I don't believe you." Steve says. "Because everyone knows _I_ have a crush on _you_. Everyone except _you_."

Bucky gives a laugh, a breathless kind of laugh, as his lips tug up into a smile. "I guess we're both idiots then, huh?"

"Uh huh." Steve murmurs. He's about to say something about them wising up, but then Bucky's mouth is on his, hands finding his hips, and Steve does nothing but melt against him. Bucky tastes of mint, cheap booze and something sweet, something distinctly Bucky. He's warm as he presses close to Steve, and his lips are soft against his. It's a _good_ kiss.

"Can we call that our first kiss?" Bucky asks. "It- It means something, right?"

"Yeah." Steve Agrees. "Yeah, it meant something."

**Author's Note:**

> So I kind of hate this, like a lot. But I've been writing it for 3 hours now and I'm not about to just let it go. It's not even what I was meant to write; I wasn't expecting another college AU. I have an undercover college thing going on for these two, and a retelling of CA:TFA with alpha/omega dynamics. But then [this tumblr post](http://auideas.tumblr.com/post/91931966427/scamdal-you-want-more-aus-ill-give-you-more) happened I was inspired. As you can see, I quickly lost said inspiration.
> 
> But yeah, anyway, thanks for reading, and as usual I'm over at http://achaiion.tumblr.com or http://offreedoms.tumblr.com


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